


bloom

by zuzkak



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Arthur inception, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, ariadne is observant, arthur doesnt know, cri, eames inception, eames is lovesick, hanahaki disease au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzkak/pseuds/zuzkak
Summary: Hanahaki disease au, mostly told through Eames' perspective. Please read the notes at the end!





	bloom

****

花吐き病: hanahaki byou

A disease affecting the human body system, making the person cough up and vomit flower petals due to one-sided love. There are two options to get rid of this disease: their crush being requited or extracting the flower in surgery. If choosing the surgical process, the flower petals will stop but with it goes the owner's memories their crush. If no course of action is chosen, the owner eventually dies from suffocation.

\---

Eames had always liked flowers. He considered them one of the simple pleasures in life. Colourful, pretty, and part of a small gesture that brings a smile to someone's face. So, when he began vomiting petals, he couldn't bring himself to hate them. They reminded him of Arthur, beautiful, overlooked by many, but blooming despite the harshness it faced. If only it could bloom somewhere other than his lungs.

\---

Eames was aware of the Hanahaki disease, of course. It was an interesting topic. He found it intriguing how the human body destroyed itself due to romantic attraction;  
He just never expected it to happen to him.

\---

Looking back, he should have predicted this. After they got out, Eames had begun seeing Arthur in a different light. He was a highly intelligent, refreshingly unreadable, and had managed to captivate Eames in a way that no one ever could before.

At first, he tried to deny it.If he didn't acknowledge his feelings maybe they would go away?

Surprise, surprise, the world doesn't work that way. Eames grew more and more infatuated with the point man every day. As a forger, he was trained to read emotions, mannerisms, personalities... but with Arthur, it was different. He wanted to unravel him in every way possible.

\---  
  
It was a late autumn evening, and Eames had just returned from coffee with Arthur and Ariadne. His heart hurt, and he was having trouble breathing. His laboured gasping was painful, and a strange feeling was rising in his throat.

_Strange time to be getting a cold..._  
He thought.

With the sudden urge to cough, he raised his palm up to his mouth and dry heaved. Once the sensation had passed, Eames lowered his hand. In the cup, sat a single, dusty pink flower petal.

\---

Over the passing weeks, the coughing fits and vomiting slowly got more intense. The time between each attack became shorter. Eames was now in the second stage of sickness.

It just so happened that Eames needed to go shopping so he could fill up his empty fridge, and made a trip to the local grocery store. It dawned on him on his way there, that under no circumstances should he let Arthur find out. If the man did, then he would probably force Eames to get the flower removal surgery (or 'weeding', as it was affectionately nicknamed), and there was no way in _hell_ that Eames would allow the memories he had of Arthur get taken from him. He would rather die.

It was, indeed, quite a sad reality to be truthful. To either forget everything about your loved one, leaving a vague sense of emptiness in your being forever more, or dying with the knowledge you could never see them again. The tragic fact was, that many sufferers of Hanahaki chose the latter option. They allow the blossom, the product of their infatuation, to consume them entirely, choking out the last sliver of life from their aching bodies. The disease was a true form of 'love sickness'.

As the British man walked up to the counter to pay, his fragile figure collapsed, a flurry of colourful petals, which he had identified as the debris of a dahlia, spewing from between his trembling lips, scattering across the floor as Eames spluttered, his anatomy pushing to get rid of the intrusion to his gentle frame. The shopkeeper leaned over the counter, trying to make sure he was alright. As he struggled to breathe, the weak man's mind filled with images of the one he came to be so enamoured with. A movie playing in his head, of Arthur's little smirks, his smart-ass comments, the not-so-subtle eye rolls, the stunning man. _Arthur_.

Eames wiped his mouth gingerly and shakily stood, supporting himself with the wall.

"I, uh," he swallowed heavily, "I apologise for the mess."  
The shopkeeper looked at him with pity. "No, no it's quite alright. Make sure you tell them. They might share your feelings."

Eames smiled politely, paid for his items, and got out of there as quickly as he could.

Share his feelings? _As if_. Eames was fully aware of the fact that Arthur wasn't exactly... fond, of the outspoken Englishman. That knowledge just made Eames even more miserable, his depression hanging over him like an overcast, mirroring his every move, slowly filtering into every part of his life.

Stage III was about to begin.

\---

Stage III was the second last stage of the Hanahaki Sickness. Now, among the petals that billowed from Eames' mouth, where small droplets of blood, a crimson garnish on the agony Eames was already feeling.

In retrospect, it was unrealistic to think no one would find out. Ariadne had begun to notice Eames' absence during most of the group's social gatherings, or, when he was there, his quick exits and snappy excuses.

Ariadne was always an observant person. Eames liked that about her.

She had followed him, one afternoon, as he rushed away from the table the team was gathered at. She found him in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, vomiting blood and flower petals into the bowl, tears running down his face as he retched. She knelt down beside him, looking at him with a mixture of worry and anger.

"Jesus, Eames. Why didn't you tell me?"

Eames leaned back, resting against the wall. A dry chuckle left his throat, dissolving into a fit of painful coughing.

Ariadne stared at him, contemplatively.

"It's Arthur, isn't it?"

The look on the older man's face said it all.

Ariadne sighed, resting her on weight on the wall. Eames swallowed heavily, trying to get his breath back.

Ariadne played with her scarf distractedly. "You need to tell him, Eames. I don't want my friend to suffocate."

Eames stared at the floor. "I can't, Ariadne."

\---

Eames was getting weaker. His bouts were getting progressively getting more severe, so much that he couldn't even leave the house. Ariadne, (bless her), began bringing Eames meals, necessities, and essentially became his nurse.

Eames' skin was a shade of grey, his eyes dull and sunken. Hanahaki was wasting the poor man away, love eating his body away. He was thin, ribs showing under his dirty t-shirt. Eames was pretty sure he hadn't moved from the couch in weeks. He knew he wouldn't last long. He just wanted to see his Arthur one last time.

\---

His wish was to come true. Ariadne had asked Arthur to bring Eames his food, and Arthur being Arthur, had agreed. He hadn't seen the other man in a while. He missed him.

The tall man walked up to the entry, knocking gently. A soft thud sounded from the other side.

"Eames?"

Silence.

"Eames, are you alright?"

Silence.

That was enough for Arthur. He tried the door, and finding it unlocked, stepped inside. From the front room, he could hear gagging and sharp gasps, frantic attempts to breathe. Arthur dropped the bag he was carrying and rushed into the space.

Arthur's heart stopped for a second. On the carpet was Eames, lying in a fetal position, dahlia petals fluttering across the room. Arthur knelt next to him, tears blurring his vision.

"Eames..." He whispered.

The man in question looked up at his love. "A-" Another mixture of blood and petals gushed from his mouth. Arthur propped Eames up, laying his head in his lap. "Wh-who is it?"

Eames smiled falteringly. "You, darling. It was always you."

Arthur bent over, pressing his lips against the dying mans, his eyes leaking in rivers of sorrow. A calloused hand pressed into his delicate flesh, bringing him closer. In his final moment, Eames was happy.

Arthur felt the contact fall away, and in that moment... He knew. Eames was gone. The man he had loved so tenderly, was dead.

His sobbing intensified, an alien feeling rising in his throat, a sudden urge to cough.

The room exploded in crimson and white carnation blossoms.

**Author's Note:**

> I chose dahlias as Eames' flowers as they symbolize sentiments of dignity and elegance. It is also the symbol of a commitment and bond that lasts forever. I thought that was perfect for this pairing and really romantic.
> 
> As for Arthur, dark red carnations symbolize deep love and affection, while white is associated with pure love.
> 
> Can you hear me crying?
> 
> Special thanks to my best friend, editor, critic and all around amazing person, Alexandra.
> 
> If you are now sad, please look at this picture:  
> ( https://i.pinimg.com/236x/99/4e/32/994e32c7ee58dcd9178ba25a1a032600--arthur-x-eames-tom-hardy-inception.jpg ) and imagine them dancing to Death Of A Bachelor by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
> I mostly listened to jazz during the writing of this because I believe both of these boys would be inclined to some smooth saxophone every now and then
> 
> That is all.
> 
> Word Count: 1422
> 
> -Zuzkak


End file.
